


To a Better Year than Last

by MissDavis



Series: Breakable Not Broken [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drunk Sherlock, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve, POV John Watson, Paralyzed John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5599885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDavis/pseuds/MissDavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the life-altering events of the last twelve months, John is more than ready for the new year to begin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>"Goodnight, Sherlock," John said, and rested his hand along Sherlock's ribcage. Maybe he was more tired than he'd realized, or maybe the warm contentment he felt was something else. "Happy New Year."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	To a Better Year than Last

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read [Breakable](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2522717/chapters/5605520), all you really need to know is: John is paralyzed from the waist down, Sherlock and John are married, and they have a dog named Gladstone. This story is way fluffier than that one. :)

John had to help guide Sherlock out of the lift into their flat; the door was apparently too narrow for Sherlock's coat to fit through, though John's wheelchair could pass without a problem.

"How much did you have to drink?" They'd only been at Greg's New Year's party for a couple of hours—John himself had barely had time to get properly tipsy. It wasn't even eleven o'clock yet.

"Not very much," Sherlock replied, speech crisp enough that John would've believed him if he weren't standing there completely flummoxed by the knot of his scarf. "Just tired."

"Right. Bed, then. Can't even make it to midnight on New Year's Eve. God, we really are an old married couple, aren't we?" 

Sherlock spun, looking offended, the effect completely ruined when he had to throw both arms out to steady himself. "I'm not old."

John raised an eyebrow as he helped Sherlock out of his coat. "Yes, you are. Six days until you're forty. Come on, bed." 

Sherlock tossed his coat in the direction of the hook by the door, then swung his head around to look at John. "Buy me a beehive."

"Sorry, what?"

"For my birthday. I want a beehive."

"I think not. There are bees in the park you can visit."

"I want my own. Honey."

"When we retire we'll move to the country and you can have all the beehives you want, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded so deeply John thought he might tip over. It took a few minutes but he managed to get Sherlock down the hall and into pyjamas. Gladstone tried to help, but as he was more of a giant lap dog than a shepherd, he mostly just got in the way. John shooed him out of the bedroom and Sherlock collapsed into bed, eyes already closed. He hadn't used the loo, brushed his teeth or taken his meds. John sighed. "I'll wake you up at midnight."

"Why?"

"So we can kiss."

"Why?"

"To ring in the New Year." He forestalled Sherlock's next question by adding, "I don't know. Good luck or something."

"We kissed last year. Look where that got us."

"Hm. Well. It got us married."

Sherlock rolled onto his side, back to John. "Our first New Year's as a married couple and I'm going to miss it." 

John patted his shoulder. "There'll be others. Go to sleep. I'm taking Gladstone out, be right back." Sherlock was snoring before John even turned off the bedroom light.

He took Gladstone down the street to do his business at the edge of the park. The night was full of revelers, couples and groups of people staggering about, laughing and singing and waiting for midnight. John barely noticed them, caught up in his own thoughts.

It did seem strange, to be out here alone. His and Sherlock's first New Year's as a married couple shouldn't be the first time they didn't celebrate it together. But then, there'd been a lot of firsts for the two of them this year. First year he couldn't walk. First year he'd seen Sherlock get high. First year of Sherlock being properly treated for his depression. First year they'd cried in each other's arms so often that it had started to seem normal, until finally they'd both been able to pick themselves up enough that they could get on with their lives. First year they'd owned a dog. Christ, what a horrible twelve months. He watched Gladstone piss against a fencepost and then tugged at his leash, urging him away from his investigation of whatever intriguing scents had been left along the pavement.

On the way back to the flat he and Gladstone were invited to join three different groups of partiers: a clutch of young women, a pair of middle-aged couples, two old men. He brushed them all off as quickly as he could, anxious to get back home. 

Back in the flat, Gladstone wandered into his favorite corner of the sitting room and flopped down on his side. John refilled his water dish, gave him a quick scratch behind the ears and then went to check on Sherlock.

Sherlock had turned over while he was gone but was still sound asleep. John rolled his chair up next to the bed and stroked Sherlock's hand where it stuck out from beneath the blanket, which prompted no reaction at all. He ran his fingers up along his neck, caressed his cheek and leaned in for a kiss. There was a split-second of non-responsiveness before he felt Sherlock quiver awake beneath his lips. He deepened the kiss and Sherlock opened his mouth, then pulled back to ask, voice rough and low. "Midnight, then, is it?"

"Not quite. Want to come watch the fireworks with me?"

"No. Get in bed." 

"Not really tired yet. I was going to watch the countdown on the telly."

"Nope. In bed. You can count down with me, and then we go to sleep together. Please?"

"All right." It wasn't anything like Sherlock's usual invitations to join him in bed, but it was important enough that he had said "please," so John wasn't going to turn him down. "Give me a minute to get changed."

He expected Sherlock to fall right back to sleep, but he didn't. He watched John get ready for bed, slipped over to give him space on the mattress and then scooted up close again once John had settled on his side.

"It's almost time." Sherlock looked over John's shoulder, as if the empty space on the wall could tell him exactly what time it was, waited a few heartbeats, then said, "Ready? Ten seconds."

John doubted it was that close to midnight—or maybe they'd already missed it—but he nodded and listened to Sherlock's count, slow and steady, the last few numbers spoken so quietly it was almost as if he imagined them. "Three, two, one, now." They tipped their heads together and kissed, softly, tenderly, not as deeply as John might've predicted. When it was done Sherlock breathed against his cheek, smelling of the beer he'd had at the party. "Happy New Year."

John smiled and put his hand up to touch Sherlock's face. Sherlock shifted beneath the covers, probably bumping John's legs with his own, but John couldn't feel it. He closed his eyes and said, "To a better year than last."

"It will be," Sherlock said. "Watch. We go to sleep now, then we wake up, together, and have a brand new year."

"Sounds good," John said, and yawned. 

"Of course it does," Sherlock said. "I said it. Now stop yawning and go to sleep. I need you well-rested for everything I have planned for next year."

"Mm. As long as it doesn't involve beehives."

Sherlock shifted against him again, disrupting the spread of the blankets. "We'll discuss it in the morning. Goodnight, John."

"Goodnight, Sherlock," John said, and rested his hand along Sherlock's ribcage. Maybe he was more tired than he'd realized, or maybe the warm contentment he felt was something else. "Happy New Year."

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to return to the [Breakable](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2522717/chapters/5605520) universe but haven't had any ideas for anything substantial. I've been kind of in a funk with writing the last week or so, and thought a quick return to this world might make me feel better. I hope you enjoyed it. Happy New Year!


End file.
